I Only Did it to Protect You
by Fairyfriender
Summary: something is going on with Sherlock and he's not telling john. john has to fight to figure out what he's hiding before someone else gets to him first. rated T because my mind can become quite dark
1. Chapter 1

**OK**** so im not sure where this story is going. i may even scrap it. and im warning you now that it'll take me forever to finish. i feel like this one is going to be a longish fic simply because i have a very detailed outline already written out. i got the prompt for this a long time ago and i found it hiding in my computer. *though i changed it a bit to fit my liking***

**i do not own anything Sherlock.**

**Oh, and each chapter will be both in johns then sherlock's POV and thats what is bolded. you'll understand as the story develops why thats needed. **

**enjoy!**

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**JOHN**

"I am going out", is all Sherlock says before John hears the door shut. John looked over and indeed Sherlock's coat and scarf were missing from their place on the rack. Sighing, he turned back around and returned his attention to his work. It wasn't entirely unusual for Sherlock to just up and leave, though as of late he was doing it a bit more frequently. Surely he has his reasons and john is positive he'll let him in on it eventually.

Sherlock doesn't return for a few hours. When John does hear the door open he turns just as Sherlock enters. His mouth is set in a hard line and has a certain tired look in his eyes as if he'd been starring at a screen for hours. He says nothing to John as he hangs up his things and passes him on his way to his own room. Was Sherlock going to bed? John looked at his watch; it was 12:30 AM. A normal person would be tired at this time but Sherlock Holmes?

John rubs his hands over his eyes and shuts his laptop. His back aches as he stands up and stretches. As he heads up the stairs he couldn't help but wonder if Sherlock had something on his mind.

**SHERLOCK**

After Sherlock left 221B he immediately pulled out his phone and texted Mycroft.

I'm leaving now have tapes ready- SH

He didn't get a reply but it wasn't like he was particularly expecting one. He put his phone back in his coat pocket and turned up his collar against the light wind that blew through the bustling street. Making his way to Mycroft's flat took exactly thirty minutes. When Sherlock bustled through the door he found his brother at a table in the kitchen. He was surrounded in papers for which Sherlock had no care.

"They are in the study" Mycroft said without looking up from whatever Government Issue he was dealing with this week. Though it was unneeded, the CCTV tapes are always in the same place every time Sherlock came to look them over; in the study on Mycroft's personal computer. Sherlock moved to a door opposite of the modern looking living room. His eyes didn't miss the empty plate that sat on the little table next to a large chair.

"Hitting the sweets again brother?" Sherlock said in an airy way as he opened the door. Smirking at Mycroft, he made his way through the door. Mycroft's sigh did not go unnoticed and Sherlock smiled, if only for a moment.

Sitting down at the desk and turning on the computer monitor Sherlock took of his coat and scarf and gave a very uncharacteristic sigh. This was his 5th time reviewing tapes. Though it pained Sherlock to admit it (though no one but Mycroft knew of him looking at the tapes in the first place) this was a tiresome and tedious job. It often left his eyes hurting and his back stiff. A few times, on the days that he hasn't slept in quite a while, he'll even feel lethargic and will usually sleep when he got back to the flat.

Three hours later, when the tapes showed nothing abnormal about the streets surrounding Baker Street, Sherlock rubbed his eyes and retrieved his things. When he left the study he noticed Mycroft in the same position he was in a few hours prior.

"Anything out of the ordinary", Mycroft asked, looking up and placing a pencil on the table. Sherlock shook his head.

"No, but one can never simply expect exciting activity so early on in a case such as this" Sherlock grimaced. This did not go unnoticed by Mycroft who smirked at Sherlock.

"Oh don't get too upset Sherlock! This call will pick up speed and you can get your kicks and endanger yourself and John. You'll risk your life and only just barely make it out alive like you do every other week." Mycroft said with an upturned nose and looked back down at his work. He rubbed his temples and sifted through some papers.

"I hope not Mycroft. This one scares me" Sherlock said in a tired whisper.

He hailed a cab outside Mycroft's flat, for he was too tired to walk all the way back.

When he reached Baker Street he gave the street a quick predatory sweep of his eyes before trudging up the stairs. When he opened the door he was only mildly surprised to see John still up. Unsure of whether or not John was able to detect the weariness of his appearance; Sherlock walked briskly to his room and shut the door. He fell into his bed without changing and was asleep within a few minutes.


	2. Chapter 2

**OK**** so i didn't really know how to work in the news article so its just italicized.**

**Enjoy.**

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**JOHN**

John wakes up to the sound of his alarm clock blaring obnoxiously. He groans as he reaches for the snooze button. His hand just grazes it but his fingers slipped and he knocked the machine to the ground with a loud thud. He threw his covers off and placed his feet on the cold floor.

"Well who told you to go off anyways?" he glared down at the broken clock on the ground. He reached down and picked it up. It had a crack on the screen and the batteries were nowhere to be seen. John assumed they rolled under his bed.

He padded down the stairs and into the kitchen. He tossed the broken thing in the trash and sighed. John Watson was not a morning person. He reached for his kettle and filled it at the tap.

"Morning", came a voice from behind him. John jumped, nearly dropping his kettle. Sitting in his living room was none other than Mycroft Holmes. John's eyebrows furrowed together as he set the kettle on the stove and walked toward him; noticing Sherlock was nowhere in sight.

"Lucky bastared" john mumbled under his breath.

"What was that?" Mycroft asked. John shook his head and waved a hand at him. Mycroft was sitting in john's chair so he elected for the couch. Sitting down, he really looked at Mycroft. He was sitting with his curious umbrella leaning against the chair. In his hands were a few of john's old newspapers. "So john, how are you?" Mycroft asked followed by one of his classic airy smirks. He placed the news paper he was reading onto his lap and smoothed it out.

"Fine…I guess" john hesitated. "Not to be rude or anything Mycroft, but why are you in our flat?" john wasn't even going to bother asking how, not entirely sure he'd even want to know. Mycroft shook his head.

"Tut tut john. Can't I just drop by and see my brother and his friend. I worry frequently after all." John stared at him and Mycroft stared back. They stayed this way for several moments until Mycroft broke. "Ok fine, I came by to see if you and Sherlock have been reading the news lately. Here look." Mycroft shuffle through the papers on his lap and handed one over to john.

John read the article twice before he could really wrap his mind around the whole thing.

_HOMOSEXUAL MAN VIOLENTLY TORTURED TO DEATH_

_This morning police discovered the body of young male David Moore. He had been missing from him home for about a week. His partner says that he went out to get groceries and never came home. David was found in an alley way dumpster. He was shirtless and had multiple lacerations up and down his body. The most pronounced though, were the symmetrical lines following the veins on the inner parts of his forearms. They start at the inner elbow and extend all the way down until the tip of his ring fingers. His autopsy concluded that this was the cause of death. He bled to death. The police currently only have one lead. David Moore was homosexual. They believe that this can be categorized as a hate crime. Further investigation is needed._

"That's horrible" he said. How tragic. Mycroft nodded his head.

"Indeed it is. I'm sure my brother's services will be requested." Mycroft paused and looked in the direction of Sherlock's room. "Well I guess I must be off. Countries won't run themselves will they?" He laughed to himself, picked up his umbrella, and made his way to the door. John just sat there on the couch still trying to process the sick act he just read upon.

**SHERLOCK**

Sherlock has been sitting in his room for the past two hours. At first he was just looking at the ceiling. Then he heard the tell tale sounds oh his brother coming into the flat and eventually the bang from upstairs. Going by the beeping previous, it was obviously john knocking over his alarm clock.

Sherlock sat there and waited until his brother closed the door on the way out before coming out of his room. John was sitting on the couch with a newspaper in his hands. Sherlock moved behind him and looked at the headline.

_HOMOSEXUAL MAN VIOLENTLY TORTURED TO DEATH_

Sherlock internally cursed his brother to the ends of the earth. This is exactly why he didn't want to enlist his brother's help in this case. Mycroft can't keep his big nose out of anything that resembles an ounce of interest.

The paper lied. That body was discovered a week ago. Sherlock has been working on the case for three days. The media was not permitted to print the story until the police fixed the facts. It was Sherlock's idea of course. Whoever did this was obviously acclimatized to violence and had previous experience. This was not some shotty murderer. Oh no, Sherlock anticipated there being another body. So by putting the wrong date in the paper, he was hoping to throw of the murderer.

Sherlock planned on doing it alone. He did not want john's help. Not this time. He would only slow Sherlock down.

"My brother left has he." Sherlock said, announcing his presence. He watched john jump and turn. He visibly relaxed.

"Sherlock, hey." He said, turning back around. Sherlock walked over to his chair and picked up his violin. He plucked at it absently, thinking.

John can't know Sherlock is already on the case. He'll have to lie, that much is clear.


End file.
